A Flight to Everything
by AlternateShadesofBlue
Summary: Emotions run high after the wedding, and Donna and Harvey struggle to find each other, making comfort take pain's place. M in second chapter to come. Two-shot. Post 716.
1. Chapter 1

Harvey is the most free she's ever seen him on the dance floor. He's liquid and lively, without airs or propriety. Something must've freed inside him, like a rope's loop suddenly come undone and he's let go of trying to keep it tied.

Several possibilities could be the culprit for the shift. Losing the firm's name once again, this time to Zane, or something that happened while working with Jessica she'd yet to sniff out. Or maybe it was the wedding itself, coupled with the heartbreaking news of their best friends' departure, which she's sure Mike has now told him about. She plans to process that news herself with copious tears when she's alone, along with a similar amount of wine.

Then the last handful of weeks hit her again, and she wonders if what's happening is a combination of all the stress from everything they've faced the last few months in the firm and personally.

They'd all grown weary, and maybe now he just needs to let loose. She just never expected it to be with _her_. _Touching_ her. Moving his body with her. Losing the evening with her.

The feeling is as if he's grabbed her by the hand and wrapped her tight, jumping out of a plane. They're falling and she's trusting he's checked their parachute pack, which is unsettling since preparation is usually her domain. Somehow she knows wherever this freefall is leading they'll land safe. Because she always jumps with him. Without thought or care, but always faith.

They don't touch the fear in those hours of flying on their feet. They glide. They immerse. They trust because they're together.

"You know?" he asks cryptically at one point, his breathing near her ear being nearly the only thing she can focus on.

"Yeah."

That's all they touch on the subject, letting their pent up physical touch speak the rest.

And then the night begins to end, and the music stops. She's left with her heart in the air and her feet unsteady on the ground due to champagne and intimate steps. The motion between them feels easy and reassured, an exhilaration kind of like the time they don't talk about. As long as they kept moving and touching, the inevitable reality change didn't have to come.

The moment their dancing ends isn't the hardest of the night. The pair of colleagues that are yet another thing that connect her with Harvey- their supports, their right hands, the only two that come close to understanding the depths of what her and Harvey hide from everyone else, will be gone. The resection that comes with Rachel and Mike's resignations makes their firm feel half as whole, even though two is on paper a small percentage.

The couple approach them, both emotionally breathless. Mike is beaming and Rachel is all soft smile and barely unspilled tears.

Harvey lets go of her hand, reminding her he used to not hold it.

They trade pleasantries about the wedding, then physical ones as well. Harvey with Rachel and her with Mike. The most important is saved for last.

Her female BFF is alone with her now, close enough she could beg her not to go. The younger woman had answers to love figured out that Donna never might. She needs her.

Rachel glances to their right at the grinning VIP-to-them men, a sheepish smile with an arched brow. "So, dancing, huh?"

Donna pulls in a reluctant breath. "Like I could be a wallflower."

"Mike and I have never seen him like that."

"Wedding of his best friend," she offers as an easy explanation, not sure if it fits even to herself.

"No, Donna. Not only that."

Donna tilts her head, meeting her friend's perceptive eyes. Her own solid, yet gentle. "He's happy for you both, Rach."

"He's happy _with_ you. Even with the news of us leaving."

Donna shakes her head, chancing a glance to the man responsible for the discussion before readying her protest.

Rachel grabs her hand and stops her with a squeeze. "You can't wait forever." There's more than a gentle push to her words this time. This is a final desperate plea.

"You're just caught up in the romance of your night with Mike. Forget about me and Harvey and focus on the impending wedding night." Donna's mouth bends in a smirk and brow raise, a deflective mask as the shield.

Rachel grins, a slight blush in her cheeks. "Then the best wedding gift you could leave us with is knowing our best friends aren't staying alone out of fear. You're going to need each other."

Using them leaving is a low blow, but effective. "Don't worry about us, we'll do what we always do."

" _Exactly_ my fear." There's a scold in Rachel's voice that's surprising. "I'm not trying to tell you how to live, but I love you, Donna. And I'm worried if you don't stop hiding from your feelings, you'll never get what I know you both want."

 _How c_ _an_ _Rachel know, when she_ _i_ _sn't even sure herself?_ Donna needs to break the emotion stinging her, pulling her under like a jellyfish with a vendetta. "If you're trying to Donna me, you've done a fair job, but you have more training before I can say you've mastered it. When did you get so _bold_?"

Rachel chokes back a cross between a laugh and a sob. "You taught me well." Something passes with Rachel's words, an admittance for what they'd been for each other. The conversation rests on the emotion.

Donna eventually adds, "Of course you're not going to be around, so my in person teachings will have to be virtual."

Mutual shaky breaths and swelling emotions return, taking Donna to a different feeling of uncertain footing.

"I don't know how I'll live without you all." Rachel wraps arms around Donna's shoulders for yet another time that day. "You could probably talk me out of this."

Rachel is lying, but even if she isn't, and even if Donna wants nothing more than to use the perfect arguments for staying, their hearts are drawn to a new future, and Donna never stands in the way of someone finding it. "Probably. But instead I'm going to tell you there are Skype video calls, non-stop flights, and plenty of law firm salaries for tickets."

Rachel's chest rises and falls.

"You and Mike will make this okay for each other," Donna says.

They exchange nods, emotions spilling because there aren't any words that will make the journey any closer, or the loss any less profound.

* * *

"So. Dancing, huh?" Mike teases as he leans over the bar, downing a glass of water.

"Is where people move their feet in time to music. Something I saw you struggling with."

Mike doesn't flinch at the jab, obviously heading somewhere Harvey knows he doesn't want him to go.

"You still not ready?" Mike presses.

 _Why the hell does it always come back to her?_ "Do you get a kickback if we book the wedding today?"

Mike's mouth bends in a frown. "I've never seen you like that before."

"Drunk?"

"Enjoying yourself. Laughing. Trying those goofy moves you're calling dancing."

Harvey shoots him an annoyed glare, because his counter arguments suddenly feel tired and weak.

"I've also never seen you back down from something you wanted."

Harvey shifts his eyes to Rachel and Donna. Her tears hitting somewhere raw that's numb unless she's involved.

"Except her," Mike finishes.

Harvey empties a final glass of champagne. "You know it rains all the time in Seattle, right? You won't be able to ride your bike."

Mike shrugs. "It's the Pacific Northwest. They're energy conscious. Everyone's going to be riding bikes."

"Rachel will have to drive you to work in your new Prius. I hope you're okay with driving 50 miles per hour on highways and wearing chinos to depositions."

"Don't be jealous. I can ship you comfier clothes when you check into the nursing home in a few years."

Harvey grunts back a laugh. "Always with the old man jokes. Do you ever have new material?" Their tone is light but Harvey may as well be holding their impending vehicle purchase on his shoulders with the heaviness he feels.

The air matches the weight, so much left unsaid. Not that the words could ever sort it out.

"I'm sorry, Harvey," Mike says, a frown forming.

Harvey shakes his head, guilt filling him like a glass running over. "You shouldn't be sorry, Mike. We had a great run. You deserve to move on."

"Yeah, but I could never have become this without you."

Harvey tightens his jaw, swallowing as if the gesture could stop the throbbing in his temple. "No. You couldn't," he says with a hairline choke, knowing he is talking as much about mentor as mentee. His head becomes all pressure with nowhere to release. Everything held in and barely under control. He chances a glance to his pressure release. All red and grace like she absorbs his heat and wears it in beauty.

Words linger as Rachel links an arm through Mike's, their more impressive female counterparts returning.

* * *

Louis joins them when they're all hugging. He's blubbering enough ugly tears for the five of them and somehow the moment is fitting. He now has Sheila after all, who has already began the task of calming Louis's erratic storm. Donna's glad he has someone; it's not a secretarial responsibility anymore.

Mike stands straighter. "We wanted more than anything to say thank you to you all before we go. Each of you has helped us get here and we could never..." Mike's words break off, emotion stealing them.

Rachel takes his hand, taking lead. "We could never have gotten here without you." Her voice breaks too, tears freely flowing now, but she continues. "We'll never forget it. We love you all. And you're forever a part of our new family."

They're now saying their final goodbyes, and it's like a stopwatch has sped up. Before Donna can figure out how to slow it they're fading away. In the end she's left side-by-side with her constant stoic-yet-crumbled-on-the-inside partner in complexity.

"You okay?" he manages, not taking his eyes from Mike and Rachel's car growing dimmer in the night.

She wipes at her cheeks, thankful for long-term lash extensions and waterproof mascara. "Just exhausted. I better get my things and call a cab."

"It's after midnight."

She stops, turning back. "You think out of the two of us, I'm the one needing reminding of the time?"

His head bends. "You got me that room. You could stay."

She's not sure how to protest without implying what's silently hanging between them. "I don't have any of my things anyway."

"I've got things you could use in my suitcase."

She opens her mouth to let out all the quickly building protests.

He stops her. "Donna, I got up at 4AM New York time, worked all day dealing with Jessica, got on a flight in Chicago, and headed straight here. I have no doubts you're just as tired pulling off everything you did. It's over an hour drive back to the city and I'm not going to sleep well sending you off alone. Can we get over the goddamn logistics of beds and toothbrushes so we can both rest?"

He's obviously beyond weary, just as anyone would expect under the circumstances they've recently faced. But it's not toiletries and surfaces that make her waver. It's the undercurrent of recent emotion ready to pick her off her feet and drop her to uncharted places.

There's a lost piece to his request, an option both know exists at the check-in desk to the very hotel. Separate spaces and safe ground by way of a plastic key card and American Express.

She plays the altered game. "Okay."

He does a single nod. And she follows him through the hotel lobby, stopping only to pick up her coat and purse. Their disconnection along the way is almost the essence of his presence to outsiders. Closed off. No one would know the entrenched ties except for her fellow intuitive's that can read their hidden synergy.

They ride alone on the elevator in charged silence.

Climbing floors.

 **5** - **6** - **7** - **8** - **9** - **10**

She has no idea what to make of his body language at the moment, and it's unsettling. His recent all over her with smiles and hands has somehow set something off-center between them. A building storm she doesn't know how to prepare for rests behind those bronze eyes.

 **13**. The doors open. The number is fitting.

She wobbles getting off. Exhaustion, dancing, and all-day-heels taking their toll.

"Do you need me to carry you?" He grabs her elbow to steady her, mouth pressing together in a smirk.

"Not with as drunk as you were tonight." She wants to ease the tension that's settled between them.

"I'll have you know I had only three glasses of champagne all night."

They arrive. **1306**.

"You could've fooled me with that dancing," she dares, poking a stick at the change in him.

He slides the key in. "I seem to remember I had a partner, and you're the one wobbly." He opens the door.

She steps in a few feet, setting her things down just inside. "It's these damn heels, and you keeping me moving all night."

The room is spacious with an extra large bed in the center. A stocked minibar and snacks sit in a small kitchen, with a large cut out with shutters opening up to a large jetted tub in the restroom. It isn't anything presidential, just the best she could manage last-minute.

When she looks at him he's watching her with an odd focus. "So hurry up and take them off." He stares somewhere low on her dress slit.

Her lips part at the demand, the suggestiveness hard to dismiss. She watches him closely as she unhooks the straps and slips them off, dropping her down a few inches. They get tossed to the side of a dresser.

He breaks his eyes from her, lifting his suitcase to a folding rack. He then pulls out a pair of boxers and a T-shirt, setting them on the dresser beside him along with a packaged toothbrush on top. "From the hotel in Chicago," he explains.

She sucks in a bottom lip, the taste of her lipstick long gone. "Thanks for this. And for... making the night easier to get through."

"Sure." He smiles, but then the expression fades, an obvious thought brewing. "Did you know about them leaving when you called?"

"I did," she answers carefully. "But Mike wanted to be the one to tell you."

He nods but she can see he's not thrilled with her response.

She doesn't have time or energy to carefully pry it out of him to offset damage. "We both know there's something more you want to say and we're both exhausted. So just do."

He measures her for a moment, then looks away and pulls his tie loose, folding it with care and setting it on the dresser. He undoes his top button and frowns. "Alright. If for some reason I hadn't been able to make it back, would you have told me after they were gone?"

Donna drops her gaze. "I don't know what he would've done."

"I said _you_ , Donna. You never used to keep these things from me."

"Some things aren't the same," she offers vaguely.

He stands a little straighter. "So this was intentional, to put distance between us?"

"What? No, of course not." For some reason she senses he's picking a fight with her. Their compass has suddenly gone haywire and he seems to be the cause and she can't keep up with intention. "Why even have me come here if you're upset with me?"

"Because I..." He slumps in front of her, gaze and focus slipping down, followed by expression.

Suddenly her usual guards have grown as tired as she has, crumbled with cracks fracturing deeper in the grit. The coming tidal wave hits now that they're alone and she's unprepared. She pushes out a breath, body bending with it as a scold for standing in front of him doing this.

She instantly regrets not going back to her place, letting loneliness and tears peel out until she could put on a fresh face and new dress and pretend she's coping well. That's how Harvey liked her anyway. A pristine pillar against his rod-straight wall.

He can't handle her like this. He never could. He does harshness and strength and she knows he's drained of both with her. She pushes past her feelings, forcing herself to Donna up. "Let's just stop here. We both know you don't want to stand here and talk about feelings."

"Goddammit, Donna. I'm trying! I'm not good at this. But you know damn well if there's anyone I'd want to go through this with, it's you."

"How can I know that?" she demands, the frantic feeling in her chest making her as unsteady as she was before. "I don't even know what _this is_."

"How can you not know?"

She lets out a heavy sigh, looking to the window. "Two weeks ago you were ready to throw away our... whatever it is we are for someone you'd been dating less than three months."

He stands a little straighter. "Which I instantly fixed by ending it."

" _After_ I was gone." She pauses. Perhaps thinking for the past few weeks they could avoid this argument had been foolish. "Maybe loyalty only applies when it affects you."

His jaw tenses, a sardonic nod telling her the comment hit hard. "Back to normal? Guess that was a lie."

She throws her hands up. "Trying to piece together what we lost doesn't mean I wasn't hurt." She swallows then. It hadn't been a lie, not really. She'd spent a career letting her feelings slide in order to maintain their blurred status.

"What you want me to say? That's the worst thing I can imagine doing but I panicked. I was trying to make things work. Weren't you forced into a similar situation once? With that guy?"

She heaves a sigh. Incredulous. "That was after dating for six months! And I didn't hesitate choosing you when he gave me the ultimatum."

"I also didn't barge into your relationship and kiss you."

His responses had suddenly become infuriatingly calm. Like she'd been the one to bring them here. Like she's the over-reactor and he's the sensible bystander. She wasn't letting him get away with that bullshit.

"No. You just monopolized every other area of my life."

"Why?"

She ignores the question, not even sure what he's asking or if she truly wants the answer revealed. "You know what? You're right, Harvey. I'm the one that screwed this up. Maybe you should have just let me remain pushed off to Stu."

"You were never... I didn't say that."

"You did! That day in your office. I made one emotionally fueled slip up with you in twelve years, and maybe it was one too many." She's past this. Passing him she reaches for the clothes on the dresser to get them out of whatever they've stumbled into.

Suddenly he's behind her, hands resting against her upper arms. "Donna. I'm sorry."

Goosebumps form as his fingertips lightly brush her skin.

He's leaning toward her, which she only knows because of the breath against her cheek. "Why did you let me monopolize every other area of your life?"

"I..." She can't help the lean into him, ignoring the boundary between them they keep breaking and trying to rebuild. They aren't boss and secretary anymore. And at the moment they're not even managing partner and his favorite COO. They are best friends yes, but most of all they are something they haven't been in a long time.

A man and a woman, trying to detangle the spiraling feelings between them.

When she hits against his chest his arms wrap around her from behind. Securing her. Catching her breath. She lets out a whimper, unable to lock it back. He's leaning into her, a slight rock in his embrace. She could feel his hot breath against her temple, an arm around both her chest and waist. She allows herself to relax into him. This feels about more than Mike and Rachel, about more than the previous weeks' complicated mess between them, but she can't dare ask. The timer for avoiding the far intimate long runs out in their quiet.

She feels his arm start to slip away, smoothing down hair as he does that sticks to his stubbled face.

Then his lips brush her skin.

At the place where her shoulder and neck meet. She chills again, feeling his warm mouth moving against her skin, hands again brushing down her bare arms. Her eyes close at the sensation. A finger traces down the spaghetti strap of her dress, the movement charging bare skin.

"H-H-Harvey?"

He pulls away and she spins around. His eyes bore into hers, his expression one she knows but can't place. "I'm sorry too, Harvey. About not telling you about Mike. About Paula. About kiss-"

"Don't." He cuts her off, swallowing. The emotion behind the action is more than she can manage. She quickly grabs the items he laid out and escapes behind the bathroom door. Her back meets the surface.

A kiss. An opened mouth kiss against her skin.

The dancing. The smiling. The hand-holding. The lingering looks. And the way he'd touched her just now. The doubts slip away and form the panic beating in her chest. And maybe it's drunkenness, or losing Mike, or being lonely and wanting to use her in the way she'd begun to write the invitation for when their lips crashed.

She's arrived with him. And she doesn't know how to let go.

* * *

A/N's: So, I'm super nervous about this one(more so than usual), so please share what you think? I have part two written, it just needs some re-writes and editing so for me this will be quick. My plan for this fic got taken all over the place thanks to the characters being insistent. Thanks always so much for reading and the reviews. ~K(or Blue if you're Elle) Thanks to BewG for giving me some assistance.


	2. Chapter 2

_**So, fair warning, this content ventures into M-category. I'm going to put a SUITS where I think you can break and come back if that bothers you, just in case you really want to finish this. But some content is lightly spread. Thank you SO much for the reviews. You have no idea how much they mean to me. I cherish every one!**_

* * *

Her back presses against the door's thin barrier, the only tangible thing standing between her and Harvey. She realizes once again how flimsy all of the intangible dividers between them remain. None of them solid enough to truly separate them, but all of them obstructing forward momentum. She pushes off of the surface, flips on the light, and slips her straps from her shoulders, letting her dress fall to the floor.

Next she removes her black lace thong, hanging the dress and lingerie on a hook, then starts unpinning her hair while watching in the mirror. The fact that Harvey could see her like this with the turn of the door handle, or an open of the shutters behind the tub taunts her. Makes her want to take control.

She could march out right now, and do what she'd done that day in his office. Brazenly. Recklessly. A siren to his disorientating equivocation. He'd reject her or fuck her and they could get the damn thing out of the way, and deal with wherever the remains scattered.

The assurance he'd made her state that morning stops her. _It's never going to happen again._ Wisdom informs her she can't repeat the similar action twice.

She pins her hair loosely on her head, needing a shower before she'll sleep. The crook in her neck still feels cool from the moisture of his kiss, and her body still feels the reactive heat. Tension over the day rinses away, but doesn't stop images of his open mouth exploring refreshed skin. The water does nothing to ease her trepidation over her feelings of things unknown.

When she's done, she stares at his folded clothes on the counter. Her body will inhabit the same spots his does in the material; an image that twinges sensual places. She forces the thought to flit away. They're not the leads in a racy romance movie, even if a couple of those looks he'd thrown her would've given her the green light with any other man.

She dresses, frees her hair again, and steps out, thankful for the dim lights because of the translucent barrier men's white undershirts provide. When he sees her, his eyes do a quick scan of her anyway, then lock on her face.

All the words always left unsaid hang above them like an overfull net, waiting for one to tumble out.

One of his does first. He takes a step, face set, and hand lifting to punctuate his point. "Look, I didn't invite you here because I was upset with you, and I sure as shit can't handle something else getting in between us again so soon." His jaw slackens, lips parting as if the words to come take more of an effort. "Look, I don't know how to do this."

 _This._ For once, she wishes they could stop speaking in vague pronouns and adjectives. "It's okay, Harvey. It's been rough lately." She doesn't help the grammar conundrum. She's not one to first concede.

He nods briefly, still not looking completely settled.

She turns to the minibar, the bottle of Pinot Noir calling to her. "After you get ready," she picks up the wine, "you wanna share a glass?"

"I'm sure we could both use it."

While he disappears in the restroom, she pours for them both and sets the half full glasses on a small table, taking a seat and adjusting the boxers and T-shirt for coverage, feeling out of her element.

When he emerges, he's wearing an almost identical set to hers. She bites a lip, holding in the newfound amusement.

"What?" he deadpans.

She motions to him, not bothering to explain the bubbling humor inside.

His lips purse together, and he gives her that boyish head-slant of his. "My PJ's didn't get washed from the trip," he explains. He falls into the chair next to her. "No peeking," he demands as he adjusts his groin area.

She locks her eyes on his brow, not daring lower. "That goes double for you, Mister."

An air of annoyance flashes on his face. "You _know_ I'm a gentleman with you."

The words are supposed to reassure, but something in them stings. "I know." She sits straighter, fighting the urge to frown.

He wears one instead. "I _see_ you, Donna. I just respect the boundaries you set."

"I _know."_

The corner of his mouth curls, his gaze dropping to her barely covered legs. "If you want me to notice, I can."

She squeezes her thighs together, which she instantly regrets because of the friction it causes. She sips her wine instead, speaking into the glass to mask her flush. "I'm not hurting for attention."

"Of that I'm well aware." There's an accusation in his voice, of which she ignores. "And for the record, I _know_ you look at me."

"If you need your ego stroked, I'm sure I can get Natalie in bankruptcy to make heart eyes."

"I don't _want_ Natalie in bankruptcy."

There's an implication hanging in those words. Her eyes widen, probably from shock over the speed of the freight train racing circles in her chest. She recovers, because that _doesn't mean_ he wants her. "We both know you kept me around to complement your good looks. We're both attractive. Since you seem to be craving fuel for your arrogance."

He rolls his eyes, silence resettling. His attention focuses on his fingers spinning the bottom of his glass.

She tries to keep her knees steady, awareness of how close they're sitting, and how if her legs widen a hair her bare knee will brush against his.

"I should've never gone to Stu." His words come out in a rush, as if they'd been locked up for so long they needed to barrel out.

Her lips part, trying to even the breaths she needs to remind herself to stay conscious.

"I guess I just..." He shakes his head, seeming unsatisfied with his direction. "A part of me hoped you'd quickly turn him down. And that would've decided for me."

"How would that have fixed it?" she asks, confused.

His fingers still on his glass. "I could've said I tried," he meets her eyes, "and she would've made the decision for me."

"Passive life decisions?" she offers.

It's pathetic, which is probably why he doesn't respond.

"I have to say, I had no idea you were interested in her." She swallows down the admission with a sip of wine.

He sighs. "Neither did I."

She draws back, brow tightening in confusion.

His fingers tap an erratic beat on the table. "You remember when you told me you wanted more?"

"When I asked to be named partner?"

He shakes his head. "Before that. That night. When you asked me about The Donna patent issue."

She pulls in a breath, and bites her lip. "I remember."

His expression settles, waiting for her to register his meaning.

"Because I said I wanted _more_?"

He gives her a nod.

"You were afraid I might quit," she clarifies.

"No, that I might lose you. Whatever more meant."

The words stick somewhere inside her, held up only by wet glue ready to slip off and only leave behind a mess. "Why did that equal going to Paula?" she asks, even though she's afraid of the answer.

"Because I guess I panicked, and she was who I was used to panicking with."

"Most people make an appointment," she teases, the implication edged but somehow light.

"Hindsight." He shrugs with a frown, downing the rest of his wine.

"This is why you should come to me with these things. I could've warned you that would end badly."

Words are lingering again. Perhaps because the ones they'd spoken kept getting too close.

The fact that she kept being the reason setting off his bad decisions flipped over in her mind, until the explanations are so overdone she can't make them usable anymore. She's left with knowing she's partially responsible, but not sure why. "I don't want you to keep worrying about losing me, Harvey. Our relationship may change, but we'll always figure out how to find our way back to each other."

The words spill out before she can reshape them. There's a realness to them. A prickly truth. Stuck between them all thorny-edged, making vines with all of their rooted meanings.

"I should...we should get to bed." She picks up the glasses and bottle with a slight tremor in her hands.

He stands with her, taking the wine from her, and setting it down on the counter. They're facing each other, and she can't seem to move her brain fast enough to process. He's taking the glasses from her hand she'd forgotten she was still holding, managing that detail too as he sets them down with a cling. They're too close for her to think, yet not close enough for a building urge inside her.

There's a softness to him now, and it makes her ache. Like he's peeling back layers she's been trying to cover up, opening up uncomfortable old wounds.

"Are you going to be okay without Rachel?" he asks gently.

She shakes her head. "Not really. Are you? With Mike?"

"No," he states with a finality. "I'm probably going to get into a lot more shit than I want to admit would've been better with him here."

She wants to reach for him, but forces her hands in place like she's spent years doing.

"Maybe we can find new ways to help each other through it." His hand reaches for hers, squeezing.

He's at the bed and climbing in before she realizes he's let go, and she's still frozen in place.

She takes the empty spot closest to the window, facing away from him because of the want growing so quickly it may consume her whole.

This isn't about sex alone. In the process of peeling layers away from their issues, she's needing to erase them all with him. Somehow tonight they'd bridged something, but at the same time created a chasm all at once. The vastness feels like a growing tidal wave and she's never owned a board to figure out how to ride it out.

Despite the turmoil, her body is on the drifting edge of consciousness, drained for too many steps beyond the edge. She fades in and out in restless slumber, dreams taking over her troubled thoughts.

* * *

 _Harvey kisses her in front of the elevator bay. But the instant their lips touch, the firm's name fades off the wall and he disappears. She goes to find him, or even Louis, but everything has vanished from the firm. Empty offices and bare walls. Even the views out the windows are just a blinding glow. No New York skyline, no towering over the world's greatest city. She frantically searches, turning every corner and investigating all available space._

 _Finally she sees Rachel. In the distance. She's wearing her wedding dress. Somehow Donna can feel her. It's like they've become the same person while maintaining two sides of themselves. Rachel is shining love, reaching all corners in the firm. The feeling is so brilliant they begin to cry._

 _Then the Rachel side begins pulling away. Flying backwards like a bad seventies Sci-Fi special effect but even with the cheesy CGI, it doesn't break the desperation to make the action stop. Suddenly, Rachel's out through the window of Harvey's old office. Body shrinking the further it flies into the clouds. Donna's only able to watch in horror from Harvey's old domain, far off into the distance. There, but growing dimmer until she's nothing but a speck._

 _Mike is suddenly in front of her, his eyes narrowed and hard. **"You did this."** But the voice that comes out, isn't his. It's Harvey's._

* * *

She wakes with her body shaking in sobs, her emotions so strong it takes her a minute to re-orientate. Tears have formed, but now began to spill, her body unsettled in confusion. The sense of loss mixed with a smorgasbord of fears leaving her jolted. She tries to even her breaths, keeping sobs inside so she doesn't wake him.

He jostles. She stills further. He's moving next to her, then suddenly is grabbing her hand. Nothing is said, but his linked fingers and brushing thumb help settle the way her heart is pounding.

He pulls her hand, coaxing her to turn. They're on their sides, half a foot apart, concern on his face and wetness surrounding her eyes, a panic still setting a rhythm in her chest. The corners of his lips pull down, a certainty set in his eyes. It's a silent version of one of those demands he gives. _Let me take care of this._

Suddenly he pulls her in close. Her head tucks under his chin, her nose and mouth against the bare skin of his throat that smells like woody aftershave and _him_. His upper leg hooks hers to pull them even closer. She loses herself in it. More than she had when he was behind her earlier. His arms feel so comforting, so _right,_ it's like he's taken every single trouble she'd been carrying and plucked them from her shoulders one by one, and tossed them aside until he was carrying only _her._ They're home, and all alone except for each other.

For the first time she can remember in years, she let's everything go with him. All empties out. Fear. Reservation. Pain. She can almost sense an exchange from him too. Sharing and combining; accepting and giving in.

They stay that way until the race inside has subsided, and when she finally pulls back, the thin light of the room exposes the most regretful and raw expression she's ever seen from him. Her heart lurches, leaving an empty wound where it's home was left behind. Fingers brush hair from her face, while his thumb from his other hand wipes tears. His focus on her is so intense heat rises to her face.

This is too intimate for them. No barriers, at least not the unbreakable ones.

"What are we doing?" she asks.

His mouth moves and he swallows, gaze tracing her face. "We're comforting each other."

"We don't..." she starts to look away but his thumb catches her chin.

"Why were you so upset?"

"It was nothing. Just a bad dream."

"About Mike and Rachel?"

Pillow talk? But his leg is hooked behind hers, with fingers tangled in her hair, so who's keeping track of screwed up boundaries anyway? "Yes. And the firm."

He acknowledges with a soft nod, eyes still not leaving her face.

 _I'm trying._ That's what he'd said to her a few minutes ago. And it hurts to admit she feels its truth because losing what it means to her could rip her apart. But she knows him. How hard this is for him. She forces herself to try too. "And the kiss." She pauses, bracing herself for his response.

His bottom lip parts in the slightest way, and then he waits. No stopping her from elaborating. No protests. No halting further conversation with a _Donna_.

"It was all over the place and bizarre. Then your voice told me I had caused it. That I was responsible."

A crease forms at his brow and he sighs, body tensing while it shifts. He stares at her, the way he does before he's deciding his next move.

"Donna, I need to ask you something. And I need you to be honest when you answer."

She swallows, feeling like she's about to fall headfirst into icy waters.

"Did you really not feel anything?"

Despite the vagueness, she knows what he's asking. His question carries so much defeat, so much heavy turmoil she almost can't weather how raw this feels. She breaks their gaze.

"Please, Donna. Tell me. Don't hide."

She complies, not looking away because somehow her feelings for this man makes her want to give this to him. But not the rest. "I don't feel like I can answer that after the way you reacted." Because she'd promised him they'd never be here again. Because holding it in for so long has made it stick extra tight.

His lips press together, a fidgeting irritation about him. "Fine. _I did_."

"Physically," she amends.

" _No_. I mean yes. But I couldn't..." His cheek pulls in, like he's fighting an admission. Then a hardness sets. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since you did it." There's an air of annoyance in his admission that's _so_ him it almost makes her giggle.

Something inside soars, long wedged in so tightly it almost carries her away when it breaks free.

"So. Can I try it again and help you figure it out?" he demands.

She thinks she finds it in herself to nod, but her focus is too distracted by his tongue darting over his lips before they press into hers. The kiss is less desperate than hers had been, but quickly turns more sensual. Tongue coaxing her lips to part, mouths tasting of shared wine and hints of champagne. An exchange passes between them, a determination to drag their hidden wants and tangle them together. He sucks in a breath before going deeper, searching her mouth. His palm slips down her arm to splay at her lower back, trying to pull them more flush. She hooks her leg over his, and he groans, his want pressing into her thigh.

She needs him. More intensely than she's ever needed him before. Not his law expertise. Not his distant companionship. His physicality. His strength rolled over pain, his intensity that seems to focus sharpest on her.

A whimper escapes when his mouth is hot against her neck, causing a building spin of her own to hit her belly. She reaches under his T-shirt, the new freedom making her greedy with desire to feel his naked skin.

He pulls his head back. "Feeling anything?" he teases, his own voice breathless and rough.

"Annoyed that you stopped." She tries to reposition her leg over his, attempting to get him closer.

He hooks a hand behind her thigh and pulls them upright, coaxing her legs around his body. He pulls her arms to willingly hook around his neck and she shifts herself until he hits against where she needs him most.

"Fuck, Donna." Hungry eyes go to her lips were his mouth returns. He rests hands on her hips, coaxing her closer. "I want you."

She raises a brow. "I can tell." She grinds against him, aware of how the looseness of the bottoms on her and the opening on him could make this happen quickly.

He groans before sucking her lower lip, dragging teeth and soothing with his tongue. Fingers tangle in her hair to tilt her head. He loses himself in her mouth, causing tingles and weakness over stolen control in response to her cheeky reply.

He pulls back suddenly, chest heaving as he trails his gaze chest to face. His fingers hook under the T-shirt he'd given her, peeling it up over her head as her chest spills out. His eyes hood, trailing back to her face. A hand slips down her hair. "You're beautiful tonight."

"Just tonight?" she chances, helping him pull off his shirt.

"No. You have no idea what you do to me."

Freed hands find the bare skin of her back, caressing her spine then pulling her against him, nipples pressing into the warm strength of his chest. She alternates fingernail and fingertip paths over the shifting muscles of his back. Lips find her neck, nipping and smoothing warm tongue over her collarbone.

Her fingers tug into his hair, his mouth venturing lower and pulling in a nipple. She wants this, all of this. But as tonight had taught her, time is an always shifting chase, and she doesn't want to wait for what they've finally caught. "Harvey?"

He raises up to read her, the exchange passing between the emotional press of her lips.

It's time. She needs him. They need each other.

 **SUITS**

His face suddenly changes. " _Shit_. I didn't come prepared for this. Are you...?"

"I'm covered." _Thank god for auto-refill birth control._ "If everything is...?"

He confirms with a nod, an endearing nervousness about him she hasn't seen for a long time. It reminds her of how long they've been side-by-side. Of how much trust resides between them.

Their mouths fuse again, this time hot and purposeful. He's pulling her closer with each slip of his tongue against hers, mimicking what they've both held back from for so long. Lust grips her, brewing low in her belly and spreading into her legs.

He supports her back while he eases her off his lap, leaning her against the mattress. Fingers hook under the waist of her bottoms, which she assists in removal by lifting her hips. He takes her in, sweeping his eyes over bare and open skin. Desire eclipses in his eyes, the darkness in them setting off long held in emotions.

Eyes zero in between her legs, his fingertips teasing her slit before dipping between them. She can feel she's already embarrassingly slick. Her hips keen when a thumb brushes her clit. He's focused on her facial response, ocular moth to her climbing internal flame. A finger slips inside, his eyes hooding. "God you're ready."

"More than."

His head hovers between her legs. "May I?" he asks with a smirk.

"Later, Harvey. We've waited too long already." As much as she wants the expertise of his lips and tongue, she needs him close. With her in every form, them against the rest in the most undeniable way.

He swallows and nods, slipping off the bed to remove his own boxers.

There's something glorious seeing all of him. They'd been together through many kinds of triumph and tension. None were this terrifying, none were risking as much as they were about to. She pulls in a shaky breath, trying to settle the building nerves.

He climbs over her, her legs falling apart to accept him. They kiss, softer this time. Reassuring. When they separate, she sees the emotion has built in his eyes too.

She helps him adjust positioning. And then they join. Despite her readiness, she almost rethinks cutting back their foreplay when he pierces inside. He groans against her, a quick intake of breath pulling in. The sharp ache from the intrusion is welcomed but shocking.

"Okay?" he asks.

"It's been a while," she admits. "Just start slow."

He kisses her neck while inching deeper. Her moans fill them room, his own getting swallowed against her neck in each advance. She coaxes his speed as she adjusts, fingers gripping his back, and legs wrapping around him in encouragement.

Her body had begun responding faster and stronger sometime after the age of 40, but she feels the building pressure climbing alongside his speed in record time. He's devouring her neck now, taking breaks to alternate nipples, and sporadic visits to her lips. She swears she could come from the ministrations against her neck alone. The things he could do with his mouth had not been forgotten, but hard to mentally experience to the fullest.

He reaches a hand down to assist in her climb. He's good at this, better than most at setting a pace with his multitasking. Her orgasm soon hits hard and quick, an overwhelming grip down low, making the world and any awareness fade behind blurry stars. He speed has slowed a touch as she subsides, watching her with a pleased curve of his mouth. A shyness takes over, not used to him being the one to witness her uncontrolled display.

"Your turn," she says with a breathlessness, her legs still shaking. His eyes shut at the permission, his thrusts becoming deeper in her now aching core. She focuses on him now, nails dragging into his hair and down his back, head raising up to suck at his shoulders and neck. She lifts hips to meet each thrust.

His movements grow erratic. Sweat is appearing in beads all over his upper body. Then, he loses himself in her. Groaning, grunting, eyes tightly shut.

She's seen him at his most vulnerable. Controlled but lost, and barely holding the mask in place. This is all of him letting go. Brow fully drawn in, flushed face, and throbbing temples. He's completely undone with them having used each other in the ultimate comfort.

She feels euphoric. Consummated. Like something long awaited had finally arrived. They'd taken each other's pain, the reverberation in the connection as instinctual as push and pull. Funny how they'd always thought the latter was easier.

His body is hot and heavy against hers as he rests, spent and still inside her. Soon he falls to the side and starts to get up.

She grabs his hand, brow knitted together.

He flashes a reassuring smile. "Just getting something to clean up." He returns quickly with a wet washcloth, taking pleased interest as he uses care with it between her legs.

 **SUITS**

He settles next to her, immediately pulling her to spoon against his side. She rests her head against his chest, lips and hands taking advantage of the newfound freedom to explore. Tongue slides against stubble on his chin, taking turns nipping and biting against the coarse skin. Her hands map various destinations. Sinews and valleys, soft and warmth against strength. The need pulls to reintroduce herself to every part of him, knowing how empty she'd feel living without it again.

A kiss presses to the top of her head. "You know what I just realized?"

"What?"

"Mike and Rachel are going to be insufferable when they find out about this."

Her eyes widen. "Oh god. You're right. Rachel's going to be giddy. Practically gleeful. I'm going to have to answer some intimate questions."

"Exactly how intimate?"

She grins at the way his body tightens. "Trust me. You don't want to know."

"Do I...measure up?" he asks, and she swears she hears a hint of amusement buried behind the question, making her almost wonder if he knows more than she realizes.

She thinks beyond his satisfying size, focusing more on the expertise of his mouth and tongue. "I'm...going to need some more samples to get an accurate assessment."

"How nice for you," he says with a petulant annoyance. "I'm just going to get fucking roasted."

"If you can't take it I can tell Rachel you need him to go easy on you."

"Seriously?" He pulls out from under her, a danger brewing behind his eyes as he props himself on an elbow. "You're wanting _me_ to prove how useful I can be so you can brag to your BFF? All while Mike, his new wife, and _my new girlfriend_ all mock me. Why am I the one getting all the shit?"

Her eyes go wide. "Calm down. You know I can't resist poking fun at you."

His expression shifts, a grin growing wide as he waggles his brow, biting his lip and darting his eyes low. "I'm the one who now does the poking." He slips a hand down, causing a gasp when he finds her center. He continues his play, a laziness in it, their conversation almost slipping from her mind.

"Harvey?" she manages between staggered breaths.

"What?" he slows his fingers, watching her face.

"Girlfriend?"

He tilts his head. "After as long as we waited? As you know, I don't let go of you well." He curves his fingers for a final time, her dismantling in gentler waves than the first go round. The fingers of his free hand smooth her hair, then trace her cheeks while she settles. He pulls his other hand away, fingers slipping between his lips while watching her.

She smiles shyly, feeling girlish and heady with romance in an embarrassing way she can't fully temper. A thought crosses her mind. "Maybe that's one good thing about them leaving. We won't see their reactions. And cell phones are easy to turn off."

He stares at her, cogs turning. "Why don't we keep it just for us for a while?"

"Really?"

"We need to figure out our own feelings before we deal with everyone else's over it."

She nods, his use of the word feelings in regards to her still sounding so strange. This feels like a dream-like bubble, one she's not ready to share yet. The newness is theirs, and she's still settling in to let go of doubts. Not to mention figuring out this new and improved communication. "So. No regrets?" she chances.

His mouth opens and closes, mischief behind his lips. "Besides wishing I could've watched the dress fall off of you earlier?"

"I could put it back on."

A finger catches her chin, as he leans in to press a kiss to her lips. "Not a chance. I'm not letting you get dressed for as long as I can manage."

"We're really doing this," she states, realizing how shocking the reality still feels.

"Donna. We should've done this a long time ago."

She presses her head back deeper into the pillow, still a whirlwind of nerves and unanswered questions.

He leans over her, hovering just above her face with a seriousness. "So, just so we're clear. Because I don't want you backtracking. You're feeling something, right?"

"No, Harvey. I'm feeling _everything_."

* * *

 ** _More A/N's(annoying notes?): Thank you to Elle for the peptalk. I think I worked a full weeks work of hours for this fic. It was emotional and hard but I'm hoping the time put in was worth it! I love these two, along with the other Suits leads, and wanted nothing more than to do this justice and make it a love letter to fellow fans(who I also love). If you can review, as always, it means the world to me. Thank you so much for reading. ~K_**


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